Cruising for a bruising

RAVAGED by rain and soaked in sea spray, Lee Taylor's eco-cruise of Tasman Island was more like a theme park ride.

By Lee Taylor

October 23, 20094:39pm

THE muscles in my thighs are burning as I squat over the seat, desperately trying to stop it from slapping my butt.

My knuckles turn white from clenching the seat in front while the rain lashes from every angle. Only Tasmania can turn an eco-cruise into a full-on theme park adrenalin ride.

A few days earlier, and from the comfort of my hotel room, I had decided on a Tasman Island Cruise three-hour eco-tour of the Tasman National Park coastline. Boasting the highest sea cliffs in the southern hemisphere, the cruise was to be a relaxing jaunt, taking in the great landmarks of the Southern Ocean.

However, having left Hobart in crisp morning sunshine, I arrive in Port Arthur one-and-a-half-hours later to a stormy reception.

Sprinting 20m from the car to the booking office, I am left windswept and resembling a drowned rat. Surely the trip would be cancelled?

"Don't worry. The weather only adds to the experience," says the woman behind the counter, wearing a thermal jacket zipped up to her chin.

Grey menacing swells

Arriving at our vessel in Pirates Bay, the weather improves slightly – instead of sideways rain we are drenched traditionally from above.

Spirits are raised when our young skipper, Tim, springs out from our vessel and points to a glimmer of blue sky way beyond the horizon. Every cloud…

The son of a local fisherman and obviously born with blue blood, Tim embarrasses us all (well, me) by displaying his sea legs in a pair of shorts and thongs, while the rest of us cower into waterproof suits and beanies.

"Okay guys, it's gonna be a bit rough out there when we get out of the bay," shouts Tim above the growl of the engine. "But there's plenty of shelter along the cliff face.

"Don't worry, I've been out in worse."

The boat glides out of the bay and skims effortlessly over the grey menacing swells thanks to its huge twin engines. Still, I join the rest of the crew in swallowing ginger tablets like lollies.

Hugging the rugged Tasman National Park coastline, the boat spins around another bay and is immediately dwarfed by huge monoliths jutting out from the wild sea. Tim cuts the engine and squeaking across the deck, we clamber to the side of the boat to get a better look.

I follow the waves with my camera as they thrash up against the immense sea cliffs, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the sprouting bush at the peak.

Like humans, each cliff face has been given its own individual markings and character – from sinister looking caves, to spurting blowholes.

Fins, feathers and flippers

By the time we reach the grand Cathedral Rock, the sun's rays are dancing off the surface of the water and we discover a group of fur seals slumped awkwardly over the scattered rock formation. The oily sunworshippers bark in disgust at being disturbed while they're busying doing nothing.

Tim's knowledge of the wildlife is mesmerising. He knows every rock's nook and cranny and is spot on about everything… especially about the sea getting rougher.

We are all as bemused as the sunbathing seals as the heavens open once more, and coupled with the surging swells, the boat no longer skims across the waves… it's more of a slap.

I briefly lose sight of the horizon as the boat powers over the oncoming waves, only to slam back down. I look around and find the rest of the crew gripping the seat in front of them, and sporting the same devilish grin.

Unfortunately we don't make it as far as Cape Pillar. The sea is far too savage for these scallywags, and Tim spins the boat around.

With the sea cliffs once again towering over us, calmness returns… until Tim excitedly calls everyone to the front of the boat. Pushing my way though the bodies, I discover a pod of dolphins darting through the water next to the boat, closely followed by seals.

Gannets begin swooping and resurfacing with fish and the sea show turns into a feeding frenzy. Fins, feathers and flippers thrash around a few metres from the boat as we all snap away with our cameras.

As the last dolphin disappears to the depth of the ocean, the rain brings a close to the entertainment and we are drenched once more for old-time's sake.

Tim thrusts the throttle forward and the boat cuts into the water to take us to 'dry' land.

Feeling tired muscles strain against the impact of the waves once more, I can't help but imagine how the cruise would have been in better weather.